Lachrymosa
by ShotgunAngel
Summary: They say I have to live with this curse. I have to live my life like those before me did. And those people were my past self. We both need to live our lives like them. But I knew he was different. He was going to get us out of this mess we call destiny.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **Hello there! :) This is my first story. It's kind of going on in my head for quite some time now and I decided to try it out. Please be kind and take time to read it. I would very much appreciate your comments, both on my writing style and on the story itself. I would like to improve my writing to be able to give off more of my ideas. Thanks guys and hopefully, enjoy! :)

**Summary: **A story of a forbidden romance. When one is cursed of the same destiny over and over again, all he could do is to go through it. With a life written in the stars, and with the thread of foreboding closely knit around them, all they could do is wish for their lives to end-together.

* * *

><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

_He took me in quite fully. His dark eyes roamed me, I was aware of them. Then he looked straight into my eyes and I quickly looked down. There was a force I couldn't fathom that forced me to find something interesting in between my feet. He proceeded to the next girl beside me and scrutinized her as well. A bald man followed closely behind him._

"_How many?" I involuntarily shuddered. His voice was sleek and has a rough undertone. The man behind him fidgeted and pulled out a piece of scroll paper from his feathered hat. "Four of them, Your Highness."_

_He nodded was off before anything. _

_We heard a yell and a gruff order of "Get moving!". The shackles around my wrists were pulled quite fiercely and I could only do much to keep from falling down. The chains rattled wildly that the sound of them seemed to resonate all over the place. We were harshly pulled via an interlinked chain which bolts on the shackles on our wrists._

_So this is how a slave feels like. Never in my wildest nightmares did I consider being one. We don't even have the kingdom interfering with our little village because of it's remoteness._

**_Lachrymosa_**

There was this old story—a myth—as people in the village would sometimes refer to it. It was told to us as early as we can comprehend and has been the ultimate fairy tale of the people around here. Anyone living here would know the story by heart and can retell it with full detail. It was a recurring part of the most anticipated campfire sessions every second month of harvest.

Our elder maidens claim that our origin can be traced from the story itself and was as authentic as life, they would always say. They would also teach the story during study sessions a though it was part of a curriculum, which they insist it is. It would seem repetitive for a non-villager but it was considered basic knowledge and appreciation of our culture. The village's existence seemed to revolve around a myth as insignificant as a children's tale.

It tells the story of two lovers of eternally different race who were damned because of their forbidden love. Quite a cliché? But it's this kind of story that's keeping the fire alive in the village's limited literature. It seemed as though the story was feeding fuel in the village's fire. When we were young, the story was watered down, bits and pieces of the tragedy excluded to appeal to our younger minds.

It tells of a forbidden romance between a demon and a mortal.

Not really a suitable story for children.

And to add to the mortification of this story, the elder maidens claim that every handful of years, the lovers were reincarnated and would find their way back into each other's arms, different names and different lives but always the same faces and the same story.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hiyori was a demon. He was a son of the shadows. His kind was feared in all the land, all across the vast continent that separates the east and the west. In the old days, they were a powerful race, able to emit the darkest aura enough to disintegrate a mere mortal. They had the most powerful leader ever to exist in their realm, so to say. He was Hiyori's father; the Lord of the Dusk. They were not the heartless and rabid killer like most humans think they are although they still are as loyal to their offerings. They will never hurt a human without suitable reason and unless provoked but this is arguable as some demons sometimes exhibit the feared malevolence without reason. _

_They were malevolent when it comes to fighting, feared by the bravest warriors. The humans believe they exist and sometimes, a demon would materialize in front of a mortal just for entertainment, usually leading to the untimely death of the unlucky mortal due to mental breakdown. Though those cases only occurred long before Hiyori's father reigned. _

_A mortal by the name of Miharu was fetching water by a lake when she stepped into demon territory without knowing. She was without charm at that time and was half-aware of the place. She never went this far out from the village. The age-old well in the central circle was dry for days and their stock of drinking water was slowly going. _

_Hiyori was lounging in a willow tree by the bank when its dark charred leaves began to turn a shade of green and were starting to go upright. In one swift motion, he was up and traced the cause of the sudden health the tree was showcasing. _

_Then he saw her._

_Miharu stooped down and touched the lip of the jar into the crystalline waters of the river and lingered for a few minutes before lifting filled jar. She set the jar aside and dipped her hands on the river to rid them of the gravelly touch the trail caused. She stood up, her dress dirty with mud. Before she can haul the jar over her shoulders, she froze. She literally froze. She could not feel her hands or her feet. She was numb all over and straight ahead, seemingly walking on water, is a figure. _

_It was dark and she could not make out details. The figure was approaching in a painstakingly slow pace, like it was intending to make her wait. Suddenly she felt pain in every part of her body, her legs, her wrists, her hands, her knees, her head. And inside of her too, if she could move, she would've doubled-over to clutch her stomach because of a searing pain inside. It quickly spread to her chest area and now she feels a burning sensation enveloping her. Her lungs seemed to need more air than normal and he was surprised she hasn't blacked-out of the pain yet. _

_Suddenly he was in front of her, his wild charcoal eyes staring directly into her brown ones. If she could scream at that moment, her lungs would've given out. _

"_Why would a mortal dare step on this damned land?" _

_His voice was cold and velvety, like delicate silverware and sounded vaguely like thunder echoing in a tunnel, a shiver ran down her spine. His presence didn't feel normal. She was sure he wasn't human. She looked at him. His face is as white as snow; jet-black hair framing his soft yet quite angular face, the contrast was startling even for her, his features were beautiful. He was beautiful. But he seemed to emit a very dark aura all around him that she considered repulsive. _

_The pain intensified as he approached her and she heard herself whimper. _

_A sound came out. Maybe she could talk. _

"_Wh-what are you?" She tried. Her voice came out hoarse and dry and it pained her to produce the sounds. She had a feeling she knew what he was but brushed off the thought. _

_The man raised his eyebrow at her query but maintained a steady gaze. He lifted up one defined hand and Miharu saw a mark on his forearm, something like a star with a line across. His hand hovered above her shoulder and she felt all the pain concentrated there. Biting her lip, she chose not to show any sign of pain possible. _

_He brought down his hand and Miharuswore it was the most excruciating pain she ever felt in her life. She came down gasping on all fours and can't even trace where the pain is radiating from. Her eyes stung with held tears and watched as the first drop came down on the muddy ground. _

"_You know what happens to humans who think they're so high they end up in enemy territory?" He asked, stooping down to her. _

"_You're a…a d-demon." She said. She was now sure of it. Terror and dread invaded her mind and her heart raced at the thought. She was going to die. _

"_Took you that long to figure out?" _

_She tried standing up but fell to her knees quickly, the pain going back and flooding her senses with nothing but a burning sensation. She hears him laugh and suddenly, she was standing, face-to-face with the demon._

"_This will be quick. Your soul will be among the ones before you." He whispered as he tipped her head._

"_I'm an exception. I didn't know this land was yours." She managed._

_The demon considered this for a moment. But he wasn't easily fooled. _

"_It's true. I-I came down here to fetch water for our family. I haven't been in this part of the village, I have no clue it was part of your territory." She said as quickly as she can. She knew it was hopeless but she had to try. _

"_Ignorance will kill you then."_

_Before he could do whatever he does to take a soul, Miharu mustered all her strength in one quick blow to the demon's chest and ran off into the clearing, leaving the demon unnerved and standing still in her wake, her jar of water lay untouched by the lake._

* * *

><p>It was pretty heroic and brave of Miharu to do that, knowing that she has a chance of survival the size of a grain of rice. She was claimed to be the first surviving victim on such an encounter without catastrophic attitude of Miharu was taught to us in study sessions as the ideal attitude and characteristic of a strong and independent lady, a person we girls should look up to and want to be when we grow up.<p>

I was never an ideal Miharu right from the start. I was always the subject of bullying and abuse by my classmates. I never tried to stand up for myself. My mom always told me to not fight fire with fire, though I think I might've overlooked the advice.

The Miharuian festival was just round the corner. It's a festival celebrated every 4 months in honor of the tragic lovers where the elder villagers commemorate the days of the lover's escapes. This is what I kind of dislike about our village; it revolves around a mere myth. I never looked forward to this event, because it seemed like an absolute joke. The girls in the village would then wear their best dresses and shiniest shoes to appeal to the crowd as the one closely resembling Miharu. It was tradition to choose a maiden who would be the modern persona of Miharu for the night.

It was merriment, of course, but I still dread the event. Every time I attend it and watch the people relive the very parts of the story, I feel a cold sensation in my gut. Like the time for the festival unease me and gives me this uncertain feeling.

I also notice them staring at me. I would walk into a store on a festival night, storekeepers and customers take turns looking at me. Are my clothes not appropriate for the festival? I couldn't read their expressions but I was always uneasy. I've got a way of knowing when I was being talked about, like how I feel a tug in my gut.

That's why I avoid going out during festival nights. My mother didn't say anything about it. I figured she understands what I feel. She keeps silent whenever I tried to ask if she knew why they were acting that way towards me.

This night was not like before and I couldn't just skip the festival because it was our street's turn to present its maidens before the awaiting crowd. That includes me especially now that I am very close to age. Sixteen seasons of life is required to make a full candidate for this event, I'm turning sixteen a month before the next festival which makes me legible to join, much to my chagrin.

My mother prepared the best dress we have in our little cottage. It was a mulberry-laced blouse with a traditional black bodice of silver loopholes. The sleeves were ballooned to puff out a little and patterned with embroidered forget-me-nots. The full skirt was cotton-weaved and maroon. It was a plain dress fit for a plain household.

I was not excited for this occasion unlike many girls in the village.

"You only have to go through this twice," My mother said. "You'll be able to pull it off. The second time, I'll be buying you the best dress we can." She tugged at the threads of the bodice and I gasped at the last tug. I preferred our normal peasant dresses. I can run around in them for hours without having to loosen anything. The bodice seems to prohibit me from breathing and resigned my stomach somewhere between my kidneys and liver.

"You will wear the most beautiful dress in the next festival." She looked at me with warm eyes.

I can hear the doubt in her voice but I was determined not to look weak in front of her. We were not well off in that aspect of our lives. My father died years ago leaving us with no more than a loaf of bread to live off of.

"I can always wear this again. It's not like this event can lift us from these hardships." I assured her. I saw her shook her head and I asked what bothered her. I find it unusual that my mother would think highly of the event.

"Just promise me not to cause something." She sighed.

I was taken aback with what she said. I have no idea what she was talking about but I felt a little compelled to say something in my defense.

It's true that I sometimes cause something like people gasping, especially the old ones, when they first see me. Gradually, the noise will die and I can walk around normally again. I have no idea what was wrong with me and I sometimes find myself staring at the small looking glass at home but finding nothing unusual. It was the same green eyes and golden hair. The same stern lips and full cheeks. What was wrong?

Soon the dress was on me, fitting perfectly as though it was tailored to just fit my body. I never appreciated the clothing before and looked more of it as a family heirloom rather than a festive dress. The more I look at it now, contrasting my fair skin and clinging to my body, I couldn't help but feel beautiful.

"Miyu, it's the first time in twenty-five years that that dress has been worn again," she said.

I looked at her and smiled. "I hope I give justice to it."

She smiled back at me and clasped her hands together. "Of course."

The plaza was buzzing with anticipation as the elders sat in a semicircle around a pit—for the campfire—probably discussing the story to be told later in the night. I saw some familiar faces, all of which revived memories I wanted to forget. I was holding my mother's hand because the stares were enough to strike a nerve. Wherever I pass, I would notice them staring then stumping back in whispers and chats, still looking at me from head to toe.

I was getting anxious of all the unwanted attention and I wanted to divert them desperately to anything, anyone and anywhere else.

Then we were called out, asked to stand in the front of the crowd behind the campfire. The people huddled together and came as close as they were allowed. I stood beside Effie, a blonde and slender teen who I met in my history session. She nudged my elbow and winked at me. I tried to do the same, but in vain.

There were seven of us, three of whom I've never saw before. Maybe they were from the next row of houses, I was not sure. We were all dressed as elegantly as possible although most of them managed to outshine our generation-old attire easily.

"A heartbeat more and we'll be starting the story." Cracked an elder. The chatter grew quieter in anticipation. I watched the flames dance in an almost too wild manner. I suddenly became very much aware of the roughness of some parts of my dress as it brushes against my skin.

"It was a very long time ago. The ages of ancients. The time when everybody lives in fear of unknown entities. There was born a story of undefined origins. A story which conquered both heaven and hell, all for the sole purpose of uniting them as one. To eradicate margins and limitations and for every creature to roam freely, the purpose was clear…"

I knew then that there was no going back. I would have to endure the night and go on with the event without any complaints. I would have to relish the story as any normal maiden would.

But there was a thought inside my head all night. Something I did not know where from but it was there nonetheless.

_I was not any normal maiden._


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Hello, it's been a while and I'm glad I've finally decided to continue this story. A question though, before anything else. Should I change the rating to M because of the emergence of grittier and rather sad themes? Read this chapter and tell me what you think. It would be so much appreciated. :)

* * *

><p>It was dark and my left temple was badly hurting. The ground was rough against my exposed shoulder and dirt was clinging too richly to my cheek. The gravel and sand beneath me smelled of wine and pastry. To my left was a burning branch that was probably used as kindling for the camp fire. I blinked several times waited for the blurry image of my surroundings to become clearer. I could not feel my hand and all over me was fire.<p>

Fire.

I picked myself up in a jolted realization and took in the image that was set before me. Our entire village was on fire. Bodies lay dead around me and screams resonated in the night. Black clothed men with swords and daggers and spears and bows were running around, slashing and aiming at anyone that was unfortunate to be caught. With my legs fumbling for anchor and my vision teeming with unshed tears, I trashed around and finally hid behind the horse stable that was mere inches from where I was. I stayed frozen and unmoving, the mid-high gate obscuring me from view. The only thought in my head was…

"Mom…" My voice cracked due to the forming lump in my throat and I felt my legs give out under me. My dress was badly ripped and the sleeves were barely clinging to my shoulders. The liquid heaviness in my eyes finally found their way down my cheeks, parting a way between the patch of dirt on my cheek. I struggled not to sob audibly and held my breath as one of them passed by slowly.

What are they doing? Who are they? What is happening? I have to find my mom.

My thoughts ran in circles until someone grabbed me by my hair and I suddenly once again met the ground, only this time, my face greeted straw and hay.

"We have one here!" he called out. I can barely keep my sobbing at bay. Quickly, other men kicked back the gate of the stable and surrounded me. The first one grabbed me by the arm and yanked me up to a stand. His grip was so tight that I slowly felt the blood in my arm caught in the area where he held me by.

"Do we take her?" one of them answered. I did not look at him but prayed that they say yes. Wherever or whatever they were talking about, my mind was secretly hoping that it would be better than being butchered here in the stable.

"He needs servants. We take her." They dispersed and one of them came up to me with black chains. Their stench was overwhelming and it took everything I could not to throw up. The man with the chains gestured for another and the other man went behind me and covered my eyes with a rough cloth. The one with the chains then haphazardly shoved them around my hands and dragged me by them right after.

I was led outside, as what I imagined. I was somewhat thankful that the cover on my eyes shielded me from whatever horror they left my village in. I stifled a whimper when I realized that if I were to be dragged by these men, I would not be able to see my mother.

"Where will you take me?" I managed to shout. I was answered by a stinging jab to my face that resulted in a nasty crack on my lips. The tears streamed freely on my cheeks and my breath came out in deep gasps but I did not dare cry out in pain.

But there were others who shouted in my behalf. I shrill voice, a woman's as far as I can tell, let out a terrified scream as I stumbled on the dirt, the blackness of the cover enveloped by my mind's own darkness. My consciousness slowly drifted away from me and I let it. I curled up in a ball on the ground and didn't take notice of the kicks and shoves that they sent me.

And then pure black.

When I woke up, I was tied to an upright pole, my hands dangling towards the ground in reverence to gravity. The black cloth was not over my eyes anymore and I could make out dark clothed figured running about and muffled laughter from somewhere near. I opened my eyes completely and took in the scene that unfolded before me. It was a courtyard. Bleak, washed out bricks on top of each other made the walls and stone curves which were surprisingly perfectly polished carpeted the ground. Tables and stalls littered the corners and a stepped platform graced the center.

Huge oak wood doors bordered and filigreed with the blackest steel I ever saw were standing gloriously on my left. And then they opened.

A tall, brown-haired man came out walking fast with a grim expression on his face. He was closely followed behind by a stout, bald man who appeared to be struggling on his steps to keep pace with the first man. A bulky man who was sitting on a stool near a stall stood up and approached me. His face was badly scarred and appeared to be missing an ear. I looked down and did my best to avoid his gaze. He unclasped the chains from the pole and I was thrown downwards. He proceeded to do the same with the other girls beside me.

There were others.

I turned to my right and sure enough, there were three others who were released from their poles. Amidst the sobbing and terrified faces, I caught a familiar face and was momentarily glad to know that I wasn't alone. Nanami Konishi from the other street was one of them. Her short hair was a welcome sight to me.

"Stand up, pesky rats!" growled the bulky man, linking us together with a chain from our shackled hands.

Right then and there, the tall man who came out of the doors and his servant came up to us, his expression still grim. The bulky man quickly stepped away, the chain link still on his broad hands.

The tall man approached us quietly, his brown-hair almost obscuring his eyes. He wore a leather three-piece garment. His pants amply tucked inside black leather boots. His coat made him look like the master of the house, coat rattling in the muffled sound of deerskin. His jaw was firm, no hint of stubble. The way he arches his body and the empowered stance he showcased told more of his personality than his rank.

He took me in quite fully. His dark eyes roamed me, I was aware of them. Then he looked straight into my eyes and I quickly looked down. There was a force I could not fathom that forced me to find something interesting between my feet. He proceeded to the next girl beside me and scrutinized him as well.

"How many?" I involuntarily shuddered. His voice was sleek and has a rough undertone. The man behind him fidgeted and pulled out a piece of scroll paper from his feathered hat.

"Four of them, Your Highness."

He nodded and was off before anything.

We heard a yell and a gruff order of "Get moving!"

The shackles around my wrists were pulled fiercely and I could only do much to keep myself from falling down. The chains rattled wildly that the sound of them seemed to resonate all over the place.

We were led to a large room occupied by several other women, some of whom were in the process of undressing. There was a collective gasp when we were unceremoniously thrown inside. The bulky man left quickly without so much of a glance.

A moment of silence ensued soon after which was quickly replaced by the loud sobbing of two of my companions. The other ladies were kind enough to help us up on our feet and guided each one of us to a free mat on the side. They offered the two sobbing girls a cup of water each which they eagerly gulped in just a few sips.

"What is this place…" I whispered to myself, my hands unconsciously rubbing each of my badly bruised and slightly bloody wrists. My eyes searched for Nanami and found her drinking from a cup as well.

"What's your name?" A girl beside me asked. I looked at her and saw the pale face of a woman who seemed to not have decent sleep in a long time. The bags under her eyes were scarily visible under the dim light of the lamps. Her ponytailed dark green hair had become wispy and frail but the concern on her face was genuinely comforting.

"Miyu. I'm Miyu Kozuki." I stuttered. She took my hands and wrapped them in a clean cloths; making makeshift gloves from my wrists to just over my palm area.

"I guess you're in a foul trauma right now, Miyu Kozuki." She said while giving me the same glass full of drink as the others had. I was not thirsty nor was I in the mood to listen to anything. "I'll be giving you the introduction to this horrible place." She continued.

I looked at her unpleasantly but she only gave a slight shrug. "Where you are now is Kanata Saionji's barracks. His stronghold. His..well, home." She looked at me with testing eyes.

"Saionji?" I managed. "Is he?"

"Yes. He's the youngest son of Heiomachi's king. But you see, he's a bastard, the result of an illicit affair of the King and one of the maidens in the central village. But as the King's son, though unlawful, he still gets a slice of the Royal Family's wealth. That's why he has this run-down part of the kingdom." She said. "And we, dear Miyu, are his servants. "

I took in all the details that I heard. It was hard for me to not think of the village that Saionji's men burned down and all the people they killed in a mindless spree. I clenched the cup with both my hands; the pressure poured forth the slightest blood from my injured hands.

"That doesn't give him the right to murder my entire village!" I unconsciously shouted. The whole room lay silent on the aftermath of my outburst. An older woman approached and knelt before me, her calloused hands gently stroking mine.

"I know. We all understand you. I am so sorry but you have to try and forget your family and friends now." She helplessly gazed at me with so much pain in her eyes, as if she were also telling this to herself. "We can be your family. I know it's not much but if we could stay together and be there for each other, then it counts for something isn't it?" she weakly smiled and I melted. I broke down and fell in a heap of helpless cries and sobs on the ground. They stroked my hair until I fell asleep.


End file.
